Crashing, Too
by InSilva
Summary: Fun at someone else's expense: always enjoyable. Unless you're the someone. One-shot.


Crashing, Too by InSilva

Disclaimer: Not mine in any way.

Summary: Fun at someone else's expense: always enjoyable. Unless you're the someone. One-shot.

* * *

Another time, another town and it wouldn't have mattered. But this was now and this was here and the Henriksen job had been long and involved and they'd ended up more at breakeven than winners and they were both tired and heartweary and these were influencing factors. There were probably other hotels but they headed unerringly to the biggest and the best. They deserved some comfort and they weren't settling for anything less.

"Bath," said Danny as they headed up the steps. "Bath with-"

"-bubbles. And chocolate."

"Whisky," Danny said firmly.

Rusty nodded. "And whisky. Bubbles, chocolate and-"

"-whisky."

"And bed."

"Soft bed."

"Clean sheets."

"Soft bed, clean sheets."

"And chocolate."

"Sheets won't stay clean for long," Danny sighed.

He pushed open the door and they walked into the foyer and stopped dead. There was colour and life and weirdness.

"You know, for once, you don't look out of place."

"Oh, you're funny."

"What's going on?"

Rusty picked up a leaflet. "Convention."

Danny watched as a horse-headed, leather tunic-wearing, high-booted figure walked past.

"This isn't conventional," he muttered.

"Well, it's not like you to be bothered."

"Come on," Danny said as two women wearing similar bronze headdresses and crimson full-length ballgowns passed by, looking at him and giggling.

Rusty smirked. "You do know that you look way out of place."

Danny glanced at the shiny lavender shirt and the grey-green suit. "I can't believe we finally found somewhere where you count as normal. Hi."

The latter was directed at one of the hotel receptionists and was accompanied by the smile and the charm.

"Good evening, sir."

_Oh, she sounds immune._

_No one is immune._

"I was wondering if you had two rooms for this evening."

"No." Harassed.

_Immune. I'm telling you._

"No, sir, we don't." Remembering herself. "I'm sorry, the hotel is full."

"Really?" Twinkling.

"Really."

_Immune. Or you've lost it._

_Henriksen must have hit me harder than I thought. You want a shot?_

"Well- Janice, is it? Janice. That is a pretty name. Well, Janice, what my friend was trying to ask was whether there might be somewhere…one room, even. We don't mind sharing."

"I'm sorry, sir, there is nothing."

"What if-"

"_Nothing."_

_Guess there's nothing._

_Guess she's immune._

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Janice disappeared into the back office with the air of one who had had enough of strangeness for one day and who had never been that susceptible to charisma. They watched her go and leaned up against the reception desk, looking at each other.

_So…?_

_Yeah…_

"Has he arrived yet?" It was a girl, intense and anxious, dressed in a turquoise off the shoulder dress with a silver snake twined up her arm. She leaned across the desk behind Rusty and addressed the man behind it. "Kennedy Valentine. Has he booked in yet?"

There was a pause as the man checked through the computer.

"I'm sorry, miss-"

"Klayr. K-L-A-Y-R, Klayr."

_Clare?_

_Mmm. _

"Look, we're expecting Kennedy Valentine plus one. We're picking up the room and the bar tab and the meals. We're not a hundred percent that he's going to show but if he does, I just need to know the moment he arr-"

"Excuse me? Did you say your name is Klayr?"

"Yes, I…"

Charm. Smile. Ramped right the way up to eleven and beyond.

"Yes…I…yes…"

_Oh, I haven't lost it._

"We were told to ask for Klayr."

Klayr blinked at Danny and swallowed. "We…?"

Rusty turned round with full dazzle and Klayr staggered slightly.

"Kennedy? Kennedy Valentine?"

"Yes, I am," Rusty nodded. "A pleasure to meet you, Klayr."

He took her hand and pressed his lips against it and it was entirely possible that Klayr might faint then and there.

"Oh, _Kennedy…_oh, it's so wonderful to meet you!"

Rusty acknowledged the effusive with a dismissive but gracious nod of the head. Klayr looked at Danny.

"Then you must be…" she blushed suddenly and unexpectedly. "You must be Kim Ellis."

"He is," Rusty said firmly. "He is Kim."

"Right. Well." Klayr smiled brightly. "Let's get you booked in."

* * *

As the door finally closed on the room with the king-sized bed, Danny's lips were tight and Rusty was unable to keep the grin off his face any longer. Klayr had been garrulous and indiscreet and Rusty had encouraged every gossipy revelation.

"You are enjoying this," Danny stated flatly.

Rusty shrugged. "It's not my fault you're the nymphomaniac, alcoholic partner of the genius comic strip artist."

"She was talking about me as if I wasn't there," Danny complained.

"You should be so worried. She was talking about you to me as if I didn't know you were my nymphomaniac, alcoholic partner. And really, I already know all about your problems."

Danny looked as if he wanted to argue further and then he shrugged.

"Bath," he said firmly and disappeared to run it.

He walked back out to see a disconsolate Rusty.

"No mini bar," Rusty explained and Danny sighed and went back and turned off the water.

* * *

They picked their way through the hotel, sidestepping the exotic and found themselves in the crowded bar.

"Triple whiskies," Rusty ordered and caught the askance.

_They're picking up the bar bill, remember?_

"You're not doing my fake reputation any good," Danny murmured as the drinks arrived but he drank the malt down anyway.

* * *

Somehow, the alcohol helped. Certainly it helped to blank out the more unfortunate elements of the Henriksen job. Like the part where they failed to get away with the money.

The alcohol helped him ignore the whispers too. He caught a few words, here and there. Enough to know that the sympathies were with Kennedy who was a positive martyr to put up with him.

The alcohol helped him smile through gritted teeth when he was propositioned on his way to and from the washroom and while he was in there.

The alcohol did not help him handle the beatific grin on Rusty's face when he returned to the bar.

_What?_

Rusty shrugged loftily and Danny's heart sank.

"What have you been saying?" he growled.

"You remember _Some Like It Hot._"

Danny stared at him. "You told people I play sax?" His eyes narrowed. "You told them I'm a drag artist?"

Klayr appeared from nowhere and laid a hand sympathetically on Danny's arm. "Kim, I want you to know that you are so brave and I am so pleased that you have Kennedy to help you through it."

_What did you-_

"You see, it just goes to show how wrong the rumours can be."

_How wrong…_

"I really hope the treatment works."

She patted his arm and turned to order a cocktail while Danny leaned in so that only Rusty could hear.

"I'm impotent?" he hissed.

"And I'm Marilyn," Rusty's eyes were sparkling. "Look, at least they don't think you're easy anymore."

_Oh, you are so very-_

"Mr Valentine? Please would you sign my comic?"

"Of course."

They were separated by the sudden sea of fans surrounding Rusty and Danny glowered at him as he played the genial genius.

"He's dreamy, isn't he?"

It was Klayr complete with cocktail and it was possible it was not her first drink of the evening.

"Oh, he's a keeper," Danny agreed.

"It's going to be so great tomorrow," she went on and as he listened, the scowl slowly slipped from Danny's face.

* * *

Naturally, Rusty had found a supply of Hershey's from somewhere and Danny had acquired a bottle of malt and there had been a bath of sorts but mostly there had been bed. Morning arrived with a large headache attached and the pair of them blinked back into existence.

"You want to unwrap your arm from my throat?"

"You want to get your hand out from under my-"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

Less dishevelled, they made it downstairs and were greeted by Klayr who seized Rusty's arm.

"There you are! Oh, I thought you'd got cold feet!"

Rusty's gaze slid Dannyward.

_You have any clue-_

"Come on! You don't want to miss breakfast."

"No," Rusty agreed fervently.

Danny followed them as they headed towards the large hall and some part of his brain was reminding him of something important and enjoyable…

* * *

The room was packed. Table after table of colourful characters sitting with breakfast in front of them and Klayr dragged them unerringly forward.

"You can sit here, Kim," she told Danny, parking him at a table at the front that was covered in toast and pastries and bacon and tomatoes and eggs.

She turned to Rusty. "We're running late," she apologised nervously. "You want to grab a quick something?"

"Sure…"

The something was something that Klayr was unlikely to ever consider an option for breakfast – a bacon and pain au chocolat combination - but she was polite enough only to give it a wide-eyed nod and then she took hold of Rusty's elbow and steered him towards the stage. Rusty dug his heels in.

"Come on, Kennedy, we're waiting. You can't have forgotten. Kim said last night how much you were looking forward to this."

Rusty's eyes searched out Danny's and Danny's face was full of happy innocence.

* * *

Headache receding by the second, Danny bit into the bacon sandwich and watched Rusty, miked up and uneasy, sitting opposite Klayr.

"So, everyone," Klayr called the room to order. "Day three and we are delighted to be joined this morning for our breakfast interview by the talented artist, Kennedy Valentine, the man responsible for all your favourite characters in graphic novel form. Can I have a round of applause for Kennedy, please?"

There was clapping. There were cheers. There was even a whoop. Rusty's eyes told Danny he was a dead man and the angelic smile he got in return told Rusty that frankly, he didn't give a damn.

* * *

The interview, such as it was, was progressing. Rusty's tactic was to go with denial and diva and Danny had to say it was proving successful. Klayr was becoming more and more desperate.

"Kennedy," she tried again. "I understand from Kim, your partner, that you have really vivid dreams."

Rusty fixed her with a deadpan look. "No."

"No…?" Klayr stared at him. "Not even the one about the penguin in charge of the army who wanted to restage the Alamo?"

Rusty didn't blink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Kennedy…"

"Mr Valentine. If you don't mind."

Klayr dissolved into apology and anxiety and Rusty threw a glance at Danny.

_How am I doing?_

_As an imposter? You're a natural._

_Uh huh. Get me out of here._

_But you're doing so-_

_Danny!_

"Right." Klayr signalled off and curtains went back to reveal a screen and Rusty was presented with a drawing tablet and pen.

"Everyone, Mr Valentine has agreed to draw some of our favourite characters for us. Do we have any requests?"

Hands shot up. Danny choked on his croissant and refused to meet the glare.

* * *

It was later and they were on their way back home. They'd driven for much of the day and they'd studiously avoided having the conversation until they couldn't avoid having it any longer.

"I've told you before how much of a bastard you can be, haven't I? I mean I'm sure I've mentioned it."

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Gee, Marilyn, I can't remember."

Silence.

"I can't draw."

"Believe me, Picasso, that much was obvious."

"I mean I can sketch plans and shit but I can't draw."

Silence.

"You think Klayr believed I had stage fright?"

"Oh, I'd say it was plausible enough. Especially when you drew that horse."

"It was a bird."

A pause.

"Huh."

"It was a _bird_."

"It had four legs, Rus."

"Yeah…" A sigh.

They stopped outside a hotel.

"Bath," Rusty suggested.

"Bed," Danny nodded.

Whisky and chocolates were taken as read.

* * *

A/N: yes, a sequel to "Crashing". Hope it made you smile. :)


End file.
